Breakfast in Bed
by My Misguided Fairytale
Summary: Toast THIS good, you've gotta eat...slowly. / For Doubleplusgoodduckspeaker – Toastshipping Ryou x piece of toast, Tendershipping Ryou x Bakura. Crack. Now continued by popular demand! Potassiumshipping Bakura x Banana, Pastryshipping Ryou x Creampuff
1. The Toast

Breakfast in Bed

Genres: Humor, Romance

Rating: T

Summary: Toast _THIS_ good, you've gotta eat…slowly. / For Doubleplusgoodduckspeaker – Toastshipping Ryou x piece of toast, Tendershipping Ryou x Bakura. Crack.

A/N: Ok, let me explain the inside joke first, so no one thinks I'm too crazy for writing this. So, Doubleplusgoodduckspeaker and I were the finalists in the YGO Fanfiction Contest (Season 7) and the contest has a tradition for coming up with seriously crack-ish final pairings. The two of us were jokingly throwing around guesses and came up with the idea of Toastshipping (Ryou x piece of toast), and I promised I'd write her one. It turns out that inanimate objects probably weren't all that far off as Kashipping (Diabound x BEWD) was the actual challenge. So, now that you're all caught up, enjoy.

In this story, Ryou and Bakura have their own bodies. No explanation is offered. Canon is sort-of thrown out the window. Deal with it. xD

To further enhance your reading experience, I recommend listening to the opening of "Oh Yeah" by Yello. It will do fantastic things for your toastshipping mental images xD

_Dedicated to Doubleplusgoodduckspeaker_. I'm sorry I missed your birthday xD

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_**Breakfast in Bed**_

Ryou was not a very kind sleeper. He was the type to roll over and move around in his sleep—once he'd rolled straight off a bunk bed at a summer camp, and since had stayed far away from any bed raised higher than twenty inches—so when he woke up that morning, yawning and stretching his arms, he thought nothing of it to roll across the bed, startling himself fully awake at the near-unmistakable _clink_ of porcelain and silverware.

His eyes snapped open, finding with some measure of relief that he hadn't rolled straight onto the tray set on the corner of his bed. The tray was made of wicker, and upon it rested two plates, one saucer, and one teacup.

All was quiet in the house. His door was open. His window was open. In his still half-asleep haze, Ryou tried to put two and two together:

_Someone broke into my house…and made me breakfast?_

_Oh_. It clicked, suddenly. _Bakura made me breakfast? _Who else liked to check the security of the locks by breaking past them, and who else liked experimenting with Ryou's cooking appliances since he didn't have any of his own to use?

Well, after the last stove-top debacle, Bakura had been forbidden from using anything other than the microwave and the toaster oven. Ryou glanced down at the tray, taking in the two perfectly grilled triangles of bread, resting on top of a china plate with an unfamiliar floral pattern around the rim. Steam rose from the teacup—it must have been made and placed there recently, maybe only a few minutes before he woke up.

And there was _honey _and _milk _with the tea. In their own individualized containers! Bakura had done all of this for him?

Ryou instantly grew suspicious. Did they have a fight he couldn't remember, or did he forget their anniversary? It wouldn't be for another few weeks, right? Did he miss Bakura's birthday? Did he miss his _own _birthday? Ryou was so engrossed in trying to figure out _why _Bakura would do something like this for him that he failed to notice that the man in question was regarding him from the room's entrance with an expression of barely-concealed amusement.

"Your breakfast is getting cold, Ryou." Bakura leaned in the doorway to Ryou's room, his arms crossed over his chest, wearing a smirk and a blue-striped button-down.

"_Breakfast?_" Ryou looked up. "Bakura, this is just _toast_. And _tea_." There were enough little condiment jars of jam and packages of butter to make the tray look overfilled, but the actual sustenance consisted of two slices of bread and some flavored water.

Bakura seemed unperturbed. "Well, I _was _limited by the food available in your cupboard, Ryou—you really should go grocery shopping soon—and you might be needing a new microwave, too."

Ryou sighed. "_Bakura_—"

"—I was surprised all the noise didn't wake you up, but then again you _do _sleep like a rock, Ryou. Some would call it hibernation—"

"_Bakura_," he repeated.

"Eat your breakfast, Ryou." Bakura settled himself into the only chair in Ryou's room, placed opposite the door in the corner of the room. He offered the other a self-satisfied smile before continuing, "After all of my hard work, the least you could do is _try _it. I swear I didn't poison the marmalade."

Ryou hesitated only once before opening one of the paper-wrapped packets of butter, swiping it over one of the toast points before taking a small bite. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"You shouldn't talk with your mouth full," Bakura chastised.

Ryou glanced at the offending piece of toast, as if _it _had committed the oversight and not Ryou himself. "Whatever." He continued to eat.

"How is it?" Bakura asked.

Ryou chewed thoughtfully for a moment, swallowed, and paused. "It's…really good."

It was true—since when did Bakura know how to cook? Or at least cook _well? _The toast was grilled perfectly, was stiff without being crisp, and was the perfect golden color. The butter had melted over the top, and Ryou felt that with each new bite he had never known how delicious bread could taste until this moment.

Bakura watched Ryou complacently as he ate—he really seemed to be enjoying his breakfast.

Bakura frowned; he was enjoying his breakfast a little _too _much…hadn't he ever had toast before? Ryou's eyes were closed as he chewed, an expression of pure bliss on his face. When he finished the last bite he stared at his crumb-covered fingers with pure disappointment, reaching for the jar of strawberry jam and a knife to adorn the second slice of bread.

Bakura's indignation only grew when he saw the way that Ryou handled the last piece of toast, holding it gently as he made sure that the surface was evenly covered in strawberry jam. Once finished, he set the embellished toast back onto the plate, returned the jar of jam to the tray, and lifted the jam-covered knife to his lips, licking a swipe of jam from the side of the utensil.

In Bakura's opinion, it took him far too long to clean the knife. Sure, watching Ryou hold a red-streaked knife was a little thrilling, but not in this context, and not when he enjoyed it this much! Ryou was _his, _and he was paying far too much attention to this breakfast spread!

He calmed down when Ryou returned the knife to the tray, picked up the teacup, and took a sip. It was Earl Grey, and nowhere _near_ Bakura's favorite, but Ryou seemed to like it.

Bakura frowned again—he must not have liked it _too _much, as his eyes were drawn to the still-remaining piece of toast. Ryou removed the teacup from his lips, reaching with anticipation for the slice of toast. The teacup settled gracelessly into the matching saucer, but Ryou made sure to handle the toast carefully. He licked his lips.

Bakura fumed silently from his chair. What did the toast have that he didn't? Was he so inadequate that a piece of _toast _could usurp his position in Ryou's heart? He'd gone and made him _breakfast_, but then Ryou decided that the breakfast was even more appealing than Bakura himself?

"_Mmm_," Ryou sighed. That was _it_—he was _mocking_ him! It was all that toast's fault! He knew he should've gone for the English Muffin, but _no_, it had to be the toast!

He glared at the half-eaten slice of bread. It looked so innocent, sitting there in Ryou's palm with its strawberry jam covering! That harlot! It was trying to steal Ryou away from him!

Ryou licked the crumbs off of one finger. The toast wasn't just trying, it was _succeeding_.

How very tricky—he'd finally found a worthy opponent in this supermarket-brand loaf of bread. It had to be vanquished! He was already planning how to dispose of the remaining slices downstairs when Ryou popped the remainder of the slice into his mouth, a look of deepest distress on his face as he finished the toast.

"Bakura," he began. "Would you mind, ah, making me some more?"

Bakura glared at the breakfast tray, stood up sharply, and stormed past the open door and down the stairs.

"This is the _last_ time I'm _ever_ making you breakfast in bed!"

_I wonder what's gotten Bakura so angry? _Ryou sat dumbfounded on his bed for a moment before reaching for the teacup and taking a sip.

**End.**

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**A/N: Again, you can all blame Doubleplusgoodduckspeaker for this. I also must give her credit for the summary.

Please, tell me your thoughts on this. I'm thinking of (eventually) turning it into a series of food-driven pairings...yes/no? Reviews would be awesome.

~Jess


	2. The Picnic

Breakfast in Bed

Genres: Humor, Romance

Rating: T

Summary: Toast _THIS_ good, you've gotta eat…slowly. / For Doubleplusgoodduckspeaker – Toastshipping Ryou x piece of toast, Tendershipping Ryou x Bakura. Crack. Now continued by popular demand! Ch.2 - Potassiumshipping Bakura x Banana.

A/N: You heard right! There's _more_! This second installment features the hilarious pairing of _Potassiumshipping _(Bakura x Banana). Feel free to suggest any more food!pairings for subsequent additions…I won't promise anything beyond this chapter, but if it's strange enough, I just might write it!

Thank you to those who offered words of encouragement on the first chapter: Doubleplusgoodduckspeaker, KajiKiki, safa'at keruth, TalaMattYazamaki, Yurisbloom911, seira-g, Seren147, QT Pie, Ryou VeRua, xXMekkzyFwuffzXx, AmeeraSakura, WolvesKey, Do The Cool Whip, IkutosGirl, Pheonix09, and InsaneDragon7.

This chapter is dedicated to_ Ryou VeRua_. Thanks as well to _seira-g_ for creating a beautiful piece of Toastshipping fanart!

Enjoy!

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_Breakfast in Bed Part II:_

_**The Picnic**_

_That's it_. No more doing nice things for Ryou, because they always backfired in the most disastrous ways. He wanted a paddle-boat ride on the lake—Bakura had no idea such sturdy-looking boats could sink so quickly. He wanted a candlelit dinner—Bakura's sleeves catching fire definitely did _not _amount to _ambience_, and Ryou seemed to be far more worried about the safety of the _tablecloth _than Bakura's dignity. He wanted a stuffed animal at the booth at the fair—Bakura had put at least five times the bear's value into the stupid game before he just chucked the horseshoe straight at the attendant's head, grabbed the bear, grabbed Ryou's arm, and ran for it—Ryou _was _appreciative of the stuffed bear, but the running involved was almost not worth it in the end, and he had no idea that the uniformed servicemen at the fair could run that fast. The games were rigged anyway, everyone knew that. At least he didn't technically _lose_; he still got his prize, in the end. Not to _mention_ that breakfast debacle of a few weeks' past.

No, the best option—the only option, in his mind—was that instead of doing nice things for others, they should be doing them for him. Nice things were highly overrated, anyway. Bakura was fully prepared to sit back and start letting the good things come his way.

Which was why, when Ryou showed up at his house—_Ryou's _own house, of course, where Bakura was stretched out on the sofa like he owned the place, flipping through the television channels—with a picnic basket in one hand, Bakura abandoned all skepticism that things wouldn't turn out for the best. It was _his _planning that seemed to be doomed for failure; _Ryou's _planning—and likewise, his level of success—was impeccable to a fault. Still, according to Ryou, they were destined for an afternoon picnic. Didn't he know that Bakura had just gotten comfortable on that couch?

"A picnic?" Bakura glanced disinterestedly at the television before turning his gaze back towards Ryou and his wicker basket. "Outdoors?"

Ryou laughed. "Have you ever heard of an indoor picnic?"

"…It _could _be fun," Bakura muttered, turning off the television and dropping the remote into the cushions with the barest flick of the wrist. "It rained yesterday."

"I packed a blanket."

"I raided your cupboards a half-hour ago."

"You don't have to eat as much, then. I packed some fruit and snacks."

"…That sounds _healthy_." He said it like it was an accusation.

"Healthy things are good for you, Bakura. That's kind-of the point."

"Are you saying I need to lose some weight?" Bakura tried to look suitably offended, but Ryou just rolled his eyes in response.

"Don't put words in my mouth. Although maybe you could stand to lose a few pounds if you want to keep stealing my clothing."

"_Borrowing_, darling," he said. "I'll return them eventually, I promise you."

"If you re-gift them to me for my birthday, I swear to you, I'll—"

"Look." Bakura interrupted, sighing irritably. "Do you want a picnic, or do you want to stand here and argue with me? Which is it?"

"That's my line, Bakura," Ryou replied. "And yes, I want a picnic. Let's go."

* * *

Bakura kicked a cluster of pebbles on the asphalt path winding its way around the park only a few blocks from Ryou's house. A small pebble glanced off the road with an unintentional amount of force, scattering a group of squirrels from the side of the path. Beside him, Ryou hummed something unintelligible with a happy smile on his face, and Bakura begrudgingly stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Where do you want to have our picnic?" Ryou asked cheerfully.

"Wherever you want." Bakura frowned. Really, how was he so happy? The sun was blazing overhead, and he knew neither of them were wearing any sunscreen...their skin burned with the ease of a lit bunch of fireworks…or Bakura's sleeves. He scowled, trying to push that one particular memory back as far as it would go.

"Is this good?" Ryou pointed to a patch of grass underneath the shade of an oak tree. Bakura's spirits soared slightly higher than hubcap-level.

"It's fine."

Ryou made a big show of unfolding the blanket and unpacking the picnic basket, and before long the two were seated together before a huge spread of food that Bakura knew they would never be able to finish.

"I really wish I was hungry."

Ryou gave him a look over his sandwich. "That's never stopped you before. At least eat _something_—I've got apples and a banana, and some juice…we could split a sandwich, if you want?"

"No, you eat it," Bakura said, glancing at the array of food. Ryou tucked in to his sandwich, humming a noise of satisfaction. "Mmm, this bread is _so _good, it makes the _best_ sandwiches." He took another bite and swallowed before speaking. "I had to go to the grocery store to buy another loaf, I didn't even remember finishing the last one!"

Bakura sighed, deciding between the banana or the chocolate-chip cookies. Easy decision—cookies. Definitely the cookies.

"Are you okay, Bakura?" Ryou asked. "You've been really quiet. Is something wrong?"

"No." He winced; he didn't mean to sound so defensive.

"I thought if I went and made _you _some food, it would cheer you up a bit!" Ryou continued. "_This _food always makes _me _feel better." He took a large bite of the sandwich for emphasis. "_Mmm_."

Suddenly, Bakura was hit with the best kind of stroke—a stroke of brilliance. _Pure_, unadulterated brilliance. Ryou would appreciate a taste of his own medicine…or _food_—okay, so metaphors weren't exactly his strong suit. His appetite returned, and Bakura reached for his food item of choice.

Banana. _Definitely_ the banana.

Two could play at _this _game. And Bakura _never _lost at games… that one time at the fair didn't technically count.

"I think you're right," he said slowly, curling his fingers around the banana and lifting it from the basket. "I _am _hungry…I think I'll take a banana."

"You do that," Ryou said, absentmindedly leaning on the tree trunk behind him. "It's such a nice day."

"It's too sunny. I never really cared for the color yellow," Bakura remarked, idly brushing a thumb against the banana's stem. "Besides," he added, turning the piece of fruit over to examine the perfectly unblemished peel, "what is a picnic without a banana to accompany it? Is a banana not a traditional picnic food?" He leaned closer and inhaled; the banana smelled tropical and aromatic, and he couldn't wait to taste it. He glanced at Ryou from the corner of his eye, his own sandwich frozen on the journey to his mouth.

"…I'm pretty sure you meant _watermelon_, Bakura," he said. "And I've got some in the basket, if you want it."

Good heavens, what did Ryou _not _have in that picnic basket? And how was he able to carry it all? On second thought…

Quickly, Bakura returned his focus to the matter at hand. Literally. "Oh, is that so?" he replied smoothly. "I suppose I still have much to learn about the…_appeal_ of these picnics." With swift concentration and nimble fingers, Bakura peeled the stem down, separating one section of it from the fruit inside.

With careful deliberation he continued to peel the banana until the entire fruit was exposed, the peel dangling limply from his fingers. He knew how Ryou was watching him, and it took all of his not inconsiderable self-control to let a smug smile creep onto his face.

"Something on your mind, Ryou?" He asked slowly, letting each word roll off the tip of his tongue before he lifted the banana to his mouth and took a bite, slowly, enjoying each individual sensation—milking that moment for all that it was worth.

Ryou glanced away, but his gaze didn't wander for long, Bakura noted. "Isn't it nice out?"

"You've already mentioned the weather, Ryou," Bakura said with the barest of grins. "Are you really that forgetful? Where _is_ your head today?" He took another slow, measured bite of the banana, closing his eyes as he chewed with a more pronounced smile. "It's too hot."

"_Excuse_ me?"

"The weather, Ryou," Bakura reminded him, leisurely. "Isn't it hot?"

"Ahem…yes, I suppose so," Ryou answered.

Bakura ignored him, focusing all of his attention solely on the unsuspecting, half-consumed piece of fruit before him. He took a larger bite and closed his eyes, taking the time to fully enjoy the taste and texture of the banana before drawing away, licking his lips in an exaggerated motion as he sighed in satisfaction.

Oh, this banana was delicious. He didn't know where Ryou had gotten one this good, but it must have come straight from _heaven_—he let himself fall completely into the sensation of consumption, blissfully surrendering into its total and absolute allure. He paused, eyes still closed.

_Where am I?_ He had to think for a few moments, and the taste of the banana was definitely clouding his ability to form any kind of a coherent thought. _...It's the park, isn't it? What am I doing again? _Oh, that's right—banana. Ryou. Banana seduction. It was seducing _him_, when he was supposed to be using it to seduce Ryou! Falling for his own trap was definitely _not _a part of the plan. He licked his lips again.

…That didn't make it taste any _worse_—on the _other_ hand…

"Bakura?"

"_Hmm?_" Bakura opened his eyes lazily, so caught up in enjoying his food that he almost forgot all about the pretense—Ryou was giving him the _strangest_ look.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he replied. "It's just that…sometimes a sandwich just won't do it…and you want a _banana_."

He took another bite and chewed slowly before swallowing. "Have you ever had that feeling, Ryou?"

Bakura heard Ryou mutter, "Not _recently,_" under his breath and allowed a glimmer of a smirk to emerge. The taste of victory was sweet.

…Not _nearly_ as sweet as the banana, but perhaps Ryou had some strawberries in that bottomless picnic basket of his? He straightened again, his focus returning—_banana_, focus on the _banana_. Not Ryou and the way he stared with such desperate longing at Bakura's mouth and the crumpled up peel in his hand.

"So…I take it you are enjoying our picnic, Ryou?" Bakura removed the remaining piece of banana and popped it into his mouth, chewing with more force, enjoying the pained look on his companion's face. "We really should have them more often. I don't know why it took you so long to set one up."

"I had my doubts," Ryou started, slowly. "But you're absolutely _evil_."

"Guilty as charged." Bakura tossed the peel to the side and spread his arms wide. "I _do _think I'm still a bit hungry, though…you said you had brought watermelon?"

"I lied," he replied quickly. Bakura grinned; Ryou really was a terrible liar.

The park was actually quite relaxing, and the weather really _was _nice—Bakura could see many, many more trips of this nature in their future. Especially if he brought more bananas.

"Of course you did," Bakura said.

"I really think we should get back home—you know, it's late…in the afternoon…" Ryou winced, twisting his fingers together as his face flushed.

Bakura grinned even wider, leaning back on his arms. "Oh, no—I like it here. Let's stay a little longer."

"I suppose," Ryou said, glancing at the picnic basket with renewed interest. "...Bakura?"

"Hmm?"

Ryou managed a grin. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that you shouldn't play with your food?"

"Of course they have," Bakura said, pretending to look affronted. "But that doesn't mean I ever listened."

**The End.**

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**A/N: This is also your once-in-a-lifetime chance in the requests corner—if you feel like giving me a suggested food!pairing or a potentially hilarious situational idea, and I feel up to writing it, you just might get another chapter! =D No promises, but I think I could maybe get up to 5 chapters before this idea becomes totally redundant…

Your words of praise and support keep me writing, so I'd love any comments you feel like giving me. Plus, I enjoy hearing from you! So send me your reviews, please! =)

Thank you for reading,

~Jess (My Misguided Fairytale)


	3. The Baking Incident

Breakfast in Bed

Genres: Humor, Romance

Rating: T

Summary: Toast _THIS_ good, you've gotta eat…slowly. / For Doubleplusgoodduckspeaker – Toastshipping Ryou x piece of toast, Tendershipping Ryou x Bakura. Crack. Now continued by popular demand! Ch 3 – Pastryshipping Ryou x Creampuff

A/N: Just when you least expect it, a third chapter is coming your way, fresh and piping-hot from the oven! Is this a clue about what pairing you'll be seeing in this chapter? Certainly! This third chapter features _Pastryshipping_ (Ryou x Cream puff), created by the wonderful LadyBlackwell. Keep those food pairing ideas rolling! With a rolling pin! ;D

Thanks to everyone who reviewed on chapter two: Doubleplusgoodduckspeaker, seira-g, LadyBlackwell, Ryou VeRua, sunoko, Pheonix09, ShizukaLawliet13, Seren147, BlueSpiritFire1, nekogirl156, Hee-so-kaa, xXYami-KaibutsuXx, TOD ZUYO, Pork Steak the Grande, Hotaru Layla, Statuess, RedSmarties, Wolfbane-Chan, withering blossoms, , Sizacu, .Lover, harinezumiko, Borath, Beansprout-Ninja, and StandUpEvenIfYouStandAlone.

I'm also proud to say that the story has gotten over 1000 hits! Which begs the question…who _are _all of you people? xD

Thanks to LadyBlackwell for her suggestion of the pairing. I've also incorporated a bit of ShizukaLawliet13, Sizacu, and Beansprout-Ninja's suggestions for some strawberries, too.

Enjoy!

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_Breakfast in Bed Part III:_

_**The Baking Incident**_

He remembered the event two days prior that had led to this whole, unnecessary situation. Really, Ryou's anger was entirely unfounded. So what if he'd hidden his favorite food somewhere it would never be found, just so Ryou would stop eating it and pay him a little attention? Was that so much to ask?

Apparently for Ryou, it was. Bakura discovered rather quickly that Ryou had a very fine line between "It's all in good fun, and everything's lighthearted and completely normal" and "WHAT THE HELL, MAN, THIS IS NOT OKAY." That line began and ended with creampuffs.

He'd all but turned his entire house upside-down, searched in every room, in every place he could think of. The creampuffs were nowhere to be found.

As it turned out, an irrationally angry Ryou meant that he gave even _less _attention to Bakura than before. As in, zero. None at all. Bakura supposed he probably should have seen that coming, which was why he had hidden himself with the creampuffs, in the place Ryou would never think of looking.

He glanced down at the napkin-covered basket at his side. He could smell them—revolting and sickeningly sweet. They smelled like sugar. He lifted one corner of the napkin, staring at one with narrowed eyes.

He'd never had a creampuff before.

Pushing the napkin back into place more harshly than before, Bakura linked his traitorous fingers together so they wouldn't be concerned with doing something like snatching a creampuff. He had to stay _strong_, and resist the temptation.

He must not give in. He _could not_ give in. Bakura remembered again that _this _was what got him into this whole mess in the first place.

* * *

"Ryou, this is the worst idea you've ever had. I don't know how to bake. Least of all…_creampuffs_." The way Bakura said the word suggested he placed the pastries on the same culinary level as something like _cauliflower _or _mud_. He eyed the ingredients lined up on the counter before them, innocently hiding inside their packages. When they came out, though, Ryou would see the error of his ways. He knew how these things ended, he had seen the movies. The kitchen would be covered in batter from a mixer pulled too-soon from a bowl of half-mixed ingredients, and every surface would be covered with flour from an inevitable food fight. Even though the only two inside the kitchen were himself and Ryou, and Ryou _certainly _wasn't the one to start those kind of juvenile fights…

"Bakura? Is something wrong?" Ryou asked.

"Yes," he answered. "You said you were going to force me to assist you in baking something."

"But I want to try it! It is _my _kitchen we're standing in, after all, and baking isn't as much fun when you do it alone! The food never tastes as good."

"Ryou, do you even know how to make these?" Bakura squinted at the cookbook, upside-down before him on the counter. A cheery picture of the light pastries looked right back at him, framed on both pages by the recipe's instructions.

By Bakura's standards, any plan or action worth doing could be explained in three steps or less. Any plan, therefore, with any more than that was far too complicated, useless, and by default, not worth doing. The recipe had at least fifteen, and the page ended in the middle of a sentence. Flipping the page required _touching_ the cookbook, which would be as good as surrender to Ryou.

"Of course I do!" Ryou argued. "You just follow the instructions. We are _baking_, and that is _final_."

He could just see the rim of an empty pastry box poking its head out of the trash can. He sighed. "If I help you, are you going to share this time?"

"Of course!" Ryou said. "I'll save one for you."

"You say that now, but you'll have them all in your stomach before you can say _'Bakura, let's bake again!_'"

"I don't talk like that." Ryou crossed his arms at Bakura's impersonation. "Make yourself useful and measure some water. I'll preheat the oven." He punched the buttons on the oven as Bakura gave in, half surprised that Ryou would trust him anywhere near the stove after what he'd done to Ryou's microwave a few weeks ago.

A few painful minutes later, Ryou was humming to himself as he stirred the mixture of flour, water, and butter. Bakura stood behind him, absently flicking the flour that was stuck to his fingers into the air. _Flick_. A little flour landed in Ryou's hair; Bakura couldn't even tell the difference.

"Stir in an egg, would you?" Ryou asked, offering him a white egg and the spoon. He turned to a higher cabinet, hunting through it for something. The harsh sound of clanging metal filled his ears until Ryou pulled out a cookie sheet, moving to set it flat on a counter on the other side of the kitchen. Moodily, Bakura cracked the egg into the pan and prodded it with the spoon.

"Well, it's never going to get mixed that way." Ryou looped his arms around Bakura, grasping both of his hands in his own, one around the spoon and the other around the handle of the pan. With quick, efficient motions, he began to stir the egg into the flour mixture, combining them until no trace of either remained, replaced with something new. Ryou's hands on Bakura's were warm and steady, guiding him as Ryou reached for another egg and cracked it into the pan. Bakura kept his arms limp, forcing Ryou to continue to manipulate them into stirring the dough together.

Bakura leaned back against Ryou. "You're right," he said. He could feel Ryou's chin resting on his right shoulder. "Cooking _is _fun."

"That's because I'm doing all the work." He couldn't see it, but Bakura could tell that Ryou was smiling. Good—if it made him happy, Bakura would sacrifice a little of his time and dignity into making…_creampuffs_…with Ryou.

"Ryou?" His hands tightened slightly around Bakura's own. His body angled itself just a little bit closer.

"Hmm?"

"I'm no expert," Bakura said, "but I think you're overstirring."

Flustered, Ryou's arms stilled and Bakura stepped back, a satisfied grin forming on his face. He tallied it up:

Bakura: 1

Creampuffs: 0

If the pastries could prepare a defense, they would have argued that the scoring could hardly count, as they had not yet been baked. Bakura knew such an end was inevitable, but if it was up to him they would never have the satisfaction of seeing an oven. He knew what their power did to Ryou, and they didn't seem to understand that it was a _privilege_, not a right! Just because the creampuffs could turn Ryou into some kind of sentimental, indolent creature, didn't mean that they should! If possible, the unbaked pastries would have argued back that Bakura himself didn't follow the same line of logic, so his argument was invalid. In response, Bakura would remind himself to stop listening to pastries, as nothing good ever seemed to come from it.

A few eggs later, a thin pastry dough had formed, and the oven beeped. Ryou seemed to know what that meant, and scuttled around the kitchen, preparing a flat baking sheet and tossing blobs of the dough onto it. In this form, they looked completely unappetizing.

Ryou seemed enamored by them, even in this state. He hadn't taken his eyes off of the ingredients since he started cooking, and now he shaped the dough blobs with his fingers into something resembling the shells they would eventually become.

"How long do they have to bake?" Ryou asked, and Bakura glanced down at the cookbook.

"An hour."

"You're lying. They'll burn if they're cooked over thirty." A few steps, a quick glance at the book, and a frosty glare in Bakura's direction confirmed it. "They only need eighteen."

"Am I done now?" The recipient of the frosty glare leaned against the countertop, frowning as he noticed he'd just set his elbow in a patch of flour.

"Oh, I'll let you know when it's over"—Bakura raised his head, _that _sounded promising—"and we can make the frosting while the shells bake!"

Slightly less promising.

As he reached for something in the refrigerator, Ryou called, "I'll whip the heavy cream!"

Slightly more promising.

"Could you put the dishes in the sink?" he asked.

Less promising.

It didn't help matters that creampuffs were about the least-masculine food Bakura could think of.

"It's a shame you're out of food coloring, otherwise we could turn the frosting pink," he muttered dryly.

"Oh, why didn't you mention that when we were at the store?" Ryou looked visibly distraught. "It's too late now, so we'll have to make do."

Bakura grinned, moving to the refrigerator. "I have a better idea." He tried to be conspicuously absent whenever Ryou wanted to go grocery shopping, but somehow Bakura had been roped into the last trip, but at least it ensured that his favorite foods were in the kitchen. The first of two containers of strawberries—'_they were on sale_,' he had argued—was already half-empty, but there would be enough berries inside for Bakura to eat his fill and still have enough left to add to the frosting.

He grabbed up the containers, moving to the sink and washing the strawberries as covertly as he could.

"Bakura, you left the refrigerator door open."

Not as covertly as he'd have liked. "What have you got there?" Ryou asked.

Bakura couldn't respond, he had already eaten one of the berries and was thinking about a second, discarding the stem to a corner of the counter he'd already heaped with plastic and packaging trash from their baking endeavors.

"See for yourself." He lifted a berry and pressed it to Ryou's mouth. He bit to where Bakura's fingers held the top, his lips brushing against Bakura's thumb. He tossed away the stem and reached for another, considering how much easier this would have been if he knew where Ryou kept the cutting board. He already knew where he kept the knives, third drawer on the right, next to the spoons.

"I was thinking we could add them to the frosting," he said, taking another.

"That is if you don't eat them first." Ryou let Bakura give him another, his own hands still covered with flour and now, bits of whipped cream. He opened a drawer and searched through it for the cutting board; Bakura noted its location. He took up the job of cutting up the strawberries, making sure at least every third one made its way into the bowl of frosting.

"Now what?" he asked, staring at the oven and the steadily blinking, descending lights.

"Now, we wait." Ryou looked starry-eyed at the rising dough inside while Bakura swiped another strawberry. "We wait for it to bake, then we wait for it to cool, then we wait to assemble it—"

Those creampuffs left no opportunity unseized, it seemed.

Creampuffs: 1

Bakura: 1

That had to change.

"Let's go do something instead of waiting around." Bakura paced the narrow kitchen, trying not to sound as impatient as he felt. "Anything. Let's get out of the house."

"You're not supposed to leave something cooking unattended—"

"Fine. The television, then." He tugged Ryou's arm until he followed Bakura out of the kitchen.

Ten minutes into a movie, with Bakura nicely comfortable and his arm slung over Ryou's shoulders, a _ding _sounded, and Ryou jumped up and fled the room with an excited, "_I'll get it!_"

Creampuffs: 2

Bakura: 1

The second he had been alone with the basket of freshly-assembled creampuffs, he had taken them and hidden them, hopeful that Ryou would hardly notice it, or that somehow his own presence would make up for the lack of readily-available sugary pastries.

It didn't, so he found himself escaping to hide with them, hoping to simply wait it out. Ryou could never stay angry at him for long, but then again the situations had never before involved creampuffs.

Bakura had never even _had_ a creampuff before.

He pushed the napkin covering them back into place, linking his traitorous fingers together so they wouldn't be concerned with doing something like snatching a creampuff. He had to stay _strong_, and resist the temptation.

He must not give in. He _could not_ give in.

It was a surprisingly difficult concept, and as his fingers itched closer to the basket, he found it easier to simply pluck a creampuff and bring it to his mouth for one tiny, experimental bite.

The pastry itself was fluffy and light, the frosting almost too sweet to bear, the mixed-in strawberries giving it the perfect amount of sharpness. It was too much, overwhelming his senses from a single bite. He imagined what eating the whole thing would be like, and realized he didn't have to imagine—the unfinished creampuff was in his hand, waiting to be devoured.

And devour it he did, his bites growing larger, the pastry itself becoming fluffier and more delicious the more he ate. He had never had food as perfect; he could see why Ryou liked them so much. He could see why Ryou wanted to keep them all to himself.

If eating one creampuff was this magical, he wondered what eating five would be like. A quick glance at the basket told him there were at least that many, and he extracted another. He didn't have to imagine it, not when the pastries were here and so was he, his self-control all but abandoned.

He had meant to harness the seductive power of the creampuffs, but had instead been sucked into its thrall, captivated by every texture and flavor it had to offer. He was no match for them, he realized. It was better to just give in to them.

He continued to eat, and at last plunged his hand into the basket to find only crumbs. He leaned back, the slightest twinge of worry growing like a seed in his stomach. What would be the chances that Ryou would be angrier at him now that he'd eaten them all?

* * *

He was in the process of attempting to escape out a window when Ryou caught him.

"Where are the creampuffs?" He didn't ask so much as yell, and Bakura had long since stopped keeping score between him and the preferred pastries.

"They're…still here," he said, slipping back inside and closing the window so Ryou wouldn't get any bright ideas about pushing him out. "Just not in a form that—"

"You've _eaten _them!"

"Well, so would _you_, but you don't see me complaining about that," he started, but Ryou's eyes narrowed further and he took a step closer.

"_All _of them?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'll make it up to you." Bakura's mind raced through possible solutions, reminding himself that he needed to practice his window-climbing more, for the future. He knew if he bought anymore creampuffs for Ryou, they'd be in danger of consumption from the both of them, and he wouldn't be able to run fast enough if he ate them all again.

* * *

The grocery store had creampuffs listed on sale, so he had picked up two boxes with the intent that one would go to each, but Ryou had taken one look and declared the number sufficient for the day.

He'd had one additional corollary, but Bakura found he didn't mind it as he lifted a pastry from the box and held it out for Ryou to eat. His fingers still threatened to change directions and eat the creampuffs himself, but Ryou's blissful expression nearly made up for it. He supposed that was a mark in favor of both the pastries and himself, and chalked it up to a draw.

"Don't worry," Ryou said with a grin. "You can have every third one."

**The End.**

* * *

A/N:

Aww, they're so cute. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and please shoot me a review with your comments or additional food-pairing suggestions! I found several recipes for creampuffs online which I used for this chapter, so that much should have been accurate.

Also, since there seem to be so many of you reading this, if you like what you're reading, chances are you'll like the rest of my writing. If you're just in it for the Tendershipping, I debuted another story today with that pairing you might enjoy. If you're just in it for the crack, I'm afraid I can't help you until the next chapter.

Thanks for reading!

~Jess


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